


Jitters (and I Swear It's Not the Espresso)

by Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace



Series: Coffee Beans and Vinyl Records [3]
Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Band, And Joe and Andy just want Pete to get out of the office, First Dates, Fluff, Frank is adroable, Gerard is a good bro, Hayley is kickass, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and Brendon is a lovable little shit, kinda sorta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:39:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/pseuds/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete and Patrick have pre-date jitters. And everyone just wants them to stop and relax, and just enjoy themselves for once for in their lives!</p><p>And when they finally go on their date, well, neither one of them could deny that sparks fly like the Fourth of July, and that Brendon can be a lovable little shit, but it just shows that he cares.</p><p>**Went back in and corrected some minor mistakes and made a few changes,nothing drastic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jitters and Jest

**Author's Note:**

> I need more fluff in my life after that terribly angsty chapter fic I posted. 
> 
> Part 3 to the Coffee Bean and Vinyl Records series! All mistakes are mine, and this fic is un-beta'd.
> 
> Enjoy!

Five in the afternoon was their usual after-work rush, and usually, rush times make the day go so much faster. College kids were pouring in from after class rush, and business men stopped by for their after work fix, and this isn’t even the busiest they get, not until the 8pm rush, when students are in desperate need of their caffeine to help get them through homework and study sessions, and couples, along with their regulars come in for some late night coffee.

That all being said, the shop is actually full and they’re keeping a steady flow of customers going and coming- lattes are being made, Brendon’s cupcakes and cookies are flying from the display case. The chairs and tables are being taken up and crowd is lively, chatter filling the warm walls as the smell of coffee drifts in the air. But, for some reason, the clock can’t seem to go any faster, and Patrick is getting antsy.

As he mixed up an iced coffee for the nice florist down the street (she’s always bringing them flowers for spring, and it adds a nice touch to the tables) he glances up at the clock on the wall, sighing at the realization that instead of the 30 minutes he feels like have past, it’s only been five, and Patrick can’t help but feel a little bit disappointed.

“Staring at the clock, isn’t going to make time move faster,” someone sang. The strawberry blonde barista glances to his left to see a grinning Brandon placing another cup into the line and fetching a cookie from the display case. The numbers stopped coming in, only because Brendon broke his own rule and took down Patrick’s board and doodled his own facts on the blackboard, much to Patrick’s relief, Hayley’s shift had ended at 3 and she had practically scrambled out of the coffee shop with a muffin in her mouth saying something about a quiz in her class later.

“Oh shut up Brendon,” muttered Patrick, a smile betraying the mock irritation in his tone. He handed the cup of iced coffee to the florist with a smile. She thanked him with a gracious smile of her own along with a five dollar bill in the tip jar before calling out another thank you as she exited.

“Is he still looking at the clock?” asked Gerard from the bar next to the expresso machine, munching on a cookie while sitting rather close to another boy with dark hair nearly reaching his shoulders and a tattoo peeking over the collar of an worn and loved band shirt, the cookies and cream frappacino with three shots resting between his heavily tattooed hands.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on break?” Patrick glanced over at his brilliant red-headed co-worker. To which Gerard shrugged with a grin. “Technically I am, I just so happen to be taking my break with my boyfriend at the espresso bar.”

“So, Patrick,” spoke the tattooed kid next to Gerard, who leaned over to break off a piece of Gerard’s sugar cookie as the other stole a sip from his drink. “Gee tells me that ‘Operation Blackboard Hook Up’ was a success.”

“Jesus Frank, don’t tell me you were in on it, too!” and if Patrick wasn’t so busy making drinks he would have covered his face with his hands and let out another annoyed sigh, but instead flicked on the blender. “And what the actual hell? ‘Operation Blackboard Hook Up’? Really?”

“Hey it was better than Brendon’s idea: ‘Operation Let’s See How Many Cute Guys We Can Get in the Store Before Patrick Finds One He Likes and Taps That.’” Frank nearly burst out laughing at Gerard’s side as Gee keeps a straight face as he speaks. “At least mine and Hayley’s was more practical than that garbled mouthful.”

“Frank smack your boyfriend for me, at least mine was accurate! We did get some cute guys in here and Patrick did find one that he likes, especially the one that he’s been crushing on, so,” he starts to sing-song, “Patrick might get to tap that,” and Brendon wiggles his eyebrows and dodges the plastic cup thrown at him by a now pink faced barista.

“I seriously cannot believe you guys right now…”

“Anyways,” laughed Frank and he and Gee passed the drink between them. “Give me details, dude! I’m curious to know about the guy whose possibly dating my second favorite barista,” he said with a grin.

“Second favorite?”

“Boyfriend privileges,” Gerard says simple, taking a sip and then passing it back to Frank.

“And what about me and Hayley?!” called out a sandalized sounding Brendon from the cash register

“A very close fourth and, you, dear Brendon, are fifth, only because that one time you didn’t give me my freakin’ java chip muffin-”

“JESUS FRANK I WAS SAVING IT FOR THE POOR PITIFUL COLLEGE STUDENT-.”

“You mean you?” retorted Patrick with a grin and a raised eyebrow. Brendon simply gaped back, looking much like a fish much to their customers’ amusement by the few giggles and laugh heard.

“I’m waiting, Trickster, details!”

Patrick’s still blushing as he calls out three names for the drinks he just finished before starting on three more. “He’s nice,” his face still an embarrassing pink flush, “He’s sort of a new regular, but he comes almost every other day, orders his usual things but I think he works by here.” He feels oddly childish for talking about this to Frank who looks gleeful as he rest his chin on interlocked fingers, elbows on the bar, all the while Gerard’s head is pillowed on his shoulder, eyes drooping despite the caffeine. Patrick makes a mental note to see if Brendon or Hayley might wanna switch shifts with Gerard, just so he can sleep in a bit tomorrow. He would gladly take it but he has a 9am study group that he’s not really looking forward to, but the professor give extra points to those he actually go to the sessions, so him and a few of his classmates are meeting at that ungodly hour in the morning, on a Saturday. “His name is Pete, and all his card said was his name and the place where he works, I’m guessing. I think it was DCD2”

Franks looks intrigued as he unlaces his fingers using one hand to grab his drink and the other to reach to his right and run his fingers through Gerard’s hair. “DCD2? Isn’t that like a record label? I think they’re the ones who signed that local underground band that made it to the top of the charts….Cobra Starship, right?”

“Yeah, with Gabe Saporta, they’ve been signed for a while I think but I guess they finally got their breakthrough. Apparently the guys in charge of DCD2 are locals to Chicago, they build it from the ground up,” added Gee from his spot on Frank’s shoulder, eyes peacefully shut at the feeling of his boyfriend’s fingers running along his scalp.

“I think, but I don’t know what he does at DCD2, I just know he works there because of the card,” the strawberry haired barista shrugs as he makes a hot chocolate and a green tea. “I think we’re going to grab some pizza later.”

“How romantic!!!” squeals Brendon, using his ninja like relaxes to dodge yet another cup, while Frank and Gerard laugh, and Patrick is now certain that the pink flush on his cheeks is bound to become permanent  by the time he gets out of work.

*****

Pete’s usually good during meetings, even on his off days. He pay attention when he has to, will talked when needed, and ignore when he’s fucking bored out of his mind when he doesn’t give two flying fucks about the information being droned on about, but he will look like he is listening.

Except, this meeting is driving him fucking insane. He can’t sit still, he’s constantly checking his phone or the clock on the wall for the time and can’t stop the tapping of his fingers or the jumping of his leg. It’s not enough to cause a stir, but it’s enough for those who know him, meaning everyone in the company, to know that Pete is anxious and needs to be let out soon for whatever reason. It’s not annoying to them in a sense, Pete wants out this bad, they all really do, but it’s enough to start annoying the visiting business men in expensive pressed suits, wanting to buy his company off him, even making subtle little threats, which Pete, Joe, and Andy chuckle off.

As he glances down at his phone for the umpteenth time, and scribbles another line of words into his already messy collection of lyrics that ‘are not really lyrics but could be if he tried hard enough’ on a scrap sheet of paper, someone clears there throat and Pete barely spares a glance up at the monkey in the suit talking about better equipment and things like that if Pete signed DCD2 over.

“Mr. Wentz, I would appreciate it if you could give me the courtesy of your attention in this matter.” And Pete stops his scribbling of words, because, okay, that was really fucking rude. And sure, maybe Pete wasn’t paying attention and you would think this sharks would take the fucking hint that there wasn’t any blood in the water.

“I would apologize, but it would just be a waste of breath, and truth be told, I am giving you the attention, because I am letting you talk and pitch your idea, not only before me, but before the company itself,”  motioning to the employees seated at the table, “And no, is no. We’re not selling, not unless you comply with our terms.”

“But Mr. Wentz, your terms do not seem to benefit the integrity of the company-”

“No, they don’t benefit the integrity of your company, which is why we won’t sell and compromise personal artistry. And unless you can offer me something in writing at this very moment, you can you crawl back into the hole you came out of and let us go back to helping these artist make the music they’re proud of and that we’re proud of putting out for the world to hear.” Pete’s voice comes out strong and firm, an air of finality following them as the man in the suit shuts up, anger and annoyance coloring his face.

He glances at the clock and sure enough, 5:45pm on the dot, finally. “Our sales are going great, and I can’t wait to see how next month turns out, but I’m sure if we all give it our best, we’ll be golden. Gentleman,” he nods to the suits in the room, “Thank you for coming and you’re welcome for the time on the floor, but get out and have a fucking fantastic day.”

Pete wanted so badly to take a picture of their faces, but he resisted the urge to do so, but the looks were priceless as they walked out of the boardroom, the door slamming behind the last one, leaving the only DCD2 employees in the room. Pete sighed loudly as he leaned heavily back in his chair, before standing up and facing his employees, his makeshift little family.

“Thanks guys for sticking with him through this crap, I know it wasn’t fun for any of you,” he started, his voice soft as he meet eyes with everyone. He was never good as public speaking but with this select group of friends and co-workers, it was somewhat easier, but Pete knew he had a tendency to babble. “I meant what I said. All I can ask for you guys and girls to do is it give it your all, and we’ll be golden, and every day, that’s what you do. Our sales are doing better than Andy, Joe, and I could have ever predicted, and we’re getting Cobra ready for their summer tour and we’re getting Max ready for his first album drop, so we’re gonna be losing our heads soon, well, at least I will.” There were a few smiles and laughs that filled the room. “Again, thanks for baring with us through the meeting, and that’s it, you guys are free to go.” Everyone nodded before getting up, light chatter filling the room and the small group filed out, passing Pete either a ‘Thanks’ or ‘See ya Boss’ before leaving, until the only occupants in the room were just the three childhood friends.

Pete slumped into one of the chairs as Joe and Andy eyed him. “Those fuckers aren’t going to take the fucking hint and leave us alone, huh?” mumbled Pete as he scrubbed a hand over his short, spikey black hair and down his face.

“It’s typical business tactics, they’ll keep hitting you until you cave. You can’t let it get to you Pete,” explained Andy, sitting besides the CEO. Joe was on his feet with a hand on Pete’s shoulder, as he spoke next.

“You handled it like a pro, man, but Andy’s right, they’re not going to stop, and we’ll be there to help you push them back to the street, no way in Hell will we let them take over our baby,” he grinned.

And it was times like this that Pete had to ask whatever God there was up there what he did to deserve these two fucking amazing humans as his best friends, through the darkest and brightest of times in his life.

“What would I do without you guys?” Pete smiled as he thought aloud.

“Be locked up in a looney bin?”

“Still stuck in your parent’s house, being a little emo hobo lovable panda?”

“Fuck you guys.”

And all three of them broke out into laughter. God Pete didn’t know what he would do without them.

“Hey Romeo, don’t you have a date to go to?” Pete’s head jerked up and glanced over at the clock. 5:55pm. Shit, Patrick got out of his shift by 6. Pete bolted out of his chair, Joe and Andy following behind him as they made their way into the elevator and back onto their floor, watching with matching grins as Pete dashed into his office.

What many people outside the company didn’t know that Pete practically lived in his office during his most stressed filled times, often forgoing sleep for days, only stopping by his apartment to showers and maybe grab a bite to eat. That being said, it didn’t surprise anyone that Pete may have had a few shirts hidden behind the office door, along with a mirror which already came with the space. As Pete righted his clothes, debating if he should keep his button down shirt and skinny jeans, or switch to a casual band shirt. He looked decent enough, maybe he’ll slip on his leather jacket or his hoodie…no leather jacket would look better with his shirt, he thought and he began fixing his hair.

“You seriously need to chill Pete,” called Joe and he flopped in the soft, black leather sofa against the wall of Pete’s spacious office. “You look fine, I highly doubt he’ll care if you showed up in bell-bottom jeans and a fringe sleeved shirt, just go and pick up the guy already. You need a fucking break from work, dude.”

“You guys sure you don’t mind closing up?” It was Friday meaning everything had to be lock up for the weekend, all loose ends tied, papers signed and ready for Monday, and all that good stuff. “I can make it back after we grab food and-”

“For the love of everything holy, Peter, go out and enjoy yourself for once,” sighed Andy with a gentle smile. “Joseph and I will take care of everything here, go and have some fun.”

Pete turned to both men as he grabbed his jacket from its place behind the door and nodded over at the guys. “Really, guys, I appreciate it,” his voice soft and sincere.

“Go, Panda-ella, go enjoy the ball, or your night on the town, except you don’t have a midnight curfew, the magic pumpkin, or the glass high heels, “ Joe motioned lazily. “Wait does that make me and Hurley your fairy god fathers?”

“Joe, shut the fuck up, and Pete, go, you’re already late if you were supposed to meet him at 6.”

“Right, right, wish me luck guys!”

“Bibbidi-bobbidi boo, dude!”

“I swear to whatever higher power there may be, you better quit it right now, Joseph,” is all Pete could hear as he exited the office, his phone in his pocket and his apartment keys in the other, as he walked into the elevator and pressed the button to take him to the ground floor. Maybe it was the nerves, or just the fact that his anxiety made his a mess, but he didn’t want to mess this up.

But then again, this was only just pizza after work, with some really cute stranger whose been making your coffee for the better half of the last early two months, who just so happens to have amazing blue hazel eyes, a dazzling smile, and is practically a fucking dream. It really shouldn’t be that bad….

Right?

****

The rush helps take his mind off of the clock, and soon he’s making orders left and right without even thinking about it, chatting along with customers and still trying to throw objects Brendon’s way at every stupid comment he makes.

Gerard finishes up his break, not before kissing Frank chastely before tossing on his apron so that expresso doesn’t get on his favorite button-down shirt, and starts helping Patrick with the orders, his eyes looking just as tired but his energy and movements masking it. For a brief moment, the dark hair barista catches Patrick’s eye and simply nods before gesturing over to Gerard who is calling out names to about four drinks. The strawberry blonde’s shoulders shag in relief because he’s 99% sure Brendon’s aware of Gerard’s dire need for a morning off, or just some sleep. He nods back with a smile and goes back to work, chatting it up with a girl whose here with her usual Statistics study group, Elisa. She’s nice, and had even admitted to Patrick once that if he weren’t into guy, she would happily go out on a date with him. He turned a brilliant red that day, but they’ve been good friends ever since, even helping him out with his mandatory stats class last semester, and she also happens to be suitemates with Hayley at the dorms, so it was totally convenient, and she was always a life-saver.

“Hey, good luck and have fun on your date tonight,” she smiled as he handed her a Chai Tea Frap.

He froze as his eyes grew wide. “How did you know about that Lisa?”

“Oh,” she grinned casually, “A certain barista who swears she’s Queen of the mystical lunar unicorns in a past life.”

Patrick groans, and he really wishes he still wore some of his old trucker hats, at least he could hid behind the brim. “Hayley.”

“The one and only,” she giggled, “Anyways, have fun Patrick!”

“Thanks Eliza,” he smiled softly before going back to his orders. He finishes up five more orders before he reaches one white paper cup. He turns it around in his hand to look at the order, only to stop dead in his tracks at Brendon’s marker cursive. _Stop working and go have fun! Your date is here!!_ His head shoots up as he sees Pete at the door, looking all smiles and nervous energy and amazing. He’s wearing what he wore early, except with the addition of a leather jacket and his hair spiked up a little. Patrick feels himself blush before turning over to Brendon who had a shit eating grin on his face and Gerard who nudges him gently to the side, taking his place making orders.

“Go, live a little Patrick,” encourages the redhead with a smile. “We got it covered.”

Patrick deafly nods before making is way to the back room, hanging up his apron next to Hayley’s and fixing himself in the small locker mirror, readjusting his fedora, glasses, and his clothes before nervously smoothing is fingers over his shirt. This was stupid, to be so nervous, hell it was just pizza, and maybe a few beers, and a really hot looking regular to the coffee shop…Okay, deep breaths Stump, in and out.

He pockets his phone and his keys before shrugging on his dark, nearly black denim jacket, the sleeves going slightly over his hands, but it would do for now, it was chilly outside after all. He exits the back room and waves good-bye to his friends.

“Patrick!” called out Brendon, “Don’t forget to use pro- OUCH!” a cup hits him right in the eye before he could even finish, Gerard smiling and waving innocently at the strawberry blonde.

Patrick really owes Gerard lunch, or new paints, or something for saving him from a world of public embarrassment. But he’ll figure that out later, right now, he fiddles with the edges of his jacket as Pete opens the door for him so they could exit the busy coffee shop.

“Hi,” starts Pete, scratching the back of his head nervously.  

“Hi, again,” Patrick smiles back.

“I, um, yeah, sorry I was kinda late,” Pete says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Work held me up.”

“It’s good, I feel bad,” blushes the barista, “I didn’t even see you come in, we just got busy and I tend to lose track of time.”

“I guess it worked out either way,” the dark-haired man chuckle. “So, uh, pizza still good with you? If not, we can totally get something else,” he adds quickly, his breaths coming out in small puffs of smoke as they walked.

“Pizza’s still good with me,” he reassures the other.

“Cool, I know this pretty awesome mom and pop place called Formacio’s that sells some pretty awesome pizza.” And they walk along the busy sidewalk, students and everyone else out and about on a Friday afternoon. They’re shoulders touch as they talk, making the short trip to the pizza joint, and there’s something comfortable about it all that makes Patrick feel fuzzy and warm, and just so…easy. It’s simple, and it feels right.

And Patrick was starting to think that this _was_ a good idea after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are lovely. If you have any suggestions (I'm always looking for inspiration) feel free to leave on in the comments, or on my [tumblr](http://shatteredmirrors-and-lace23.tumblr.com/) (which is under the same name as my Ao3 account) . 
> 
> Thanks again!


	2. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they arrive, Pete's mentally screaming at himself to keep his fucking pants on around the kid, and Patrick doesn't really understand why the heck's suddenly stupidly shy, and really wants to murder Brendon sometimes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second part! I was going to make this into another one-shot in and of itself, but decided it be better with the first part...So he's 10 pages of their date, at least that what Word tells me.
> 
> All mistakes are mine as all my works are unbeta'd.
> 
> Enjoy!

When they arrived at Formacio’s, Pete kind of glad he knows the management. There is swelling crowd of people, a good half of them college students, chatting and waiting in line to be seated that literally started from the small waiting area past the double doors and into the sidewalk where the crowd looked more like an endless see of people. Neither of them would be lying if they said it was little bit overwhelming.

“The food here must be pretty awesome here if this is what the line looks like,” says Patrick as finds himself staring in awe at the sheer amount of people willing to wait for _pizza_ of all things.

“Trust me, dude, you haven’t _lived_ until you’ve tried Formacio’s,” the older man smirked as he stood outside the crowd, along with Patrick. “Let’s try to get a table.”

Patrick looked at Pete like he had grown another head, before looking back at the sea of people. There was no way in hell they were going to find anything for more than an hour, even if they were lucky. “You’re joking, right? There’s probably no way we’re going to get a table, Pete.”

Pete’s heart fluttered at the sound of his name coming for those gorgeous lips of his, now that he thinks about it, he would do anything just to ki- ‘ _No, bad Pete, it’s only been like 20 minutes that you’ve known this guy out of the coffee shop. Keep it in your pants tonight Wentz…_ ’ he thought to himself, as he looked from the strawberry blonde to the crowd. “You never know,” he smirks to himself. “Come on, it’s worth a shot.”

Patrick playfully rolled his eyes as he scoffed. “Okay fine,” he said exasperated, “But it’s gonna be kind of tough getting into the actual place…”

“Just stay by me, okay?” smiled Pete, to which Patrick easily smiles back, before quickly avoiding his gaze, his eyes dropping to the ground. Pete’s grin was something else, and damn, did it make him feel like a damn high schooler with a seriously dumb crush. This was ridiculous.

Pete motioned for Patrick to follow him as they broke through the packed crowd of squished bodies. As they braved the crowd, stepping over toes and possibly spilling a few drinks, Pete begins to feel him lose Patrick amongst the sea of sweaty bodies. He turned to see the barista lagging behind a bit, so he stopped, waiting for him to catch up with a smile before placing a firm, guiding hand on his back, as they continued through the crowd. He was quick to apologize, but when Patrick leaned in a bit into the dark haired man, grasping his leather jacket in one hand, as if to hold on, his mind went blank and he swears his hear was racing a mile a minute.

Patrick’s fighting the blush that’s forming on his cheeks from their closeness, and the fact that at this very moment, he’s holding on to Pete’s jacket for dear life, and his arm is around him, and Patrick, well, he was thankful that the lighting in this place was kind of dim, at least Pete couldn’t see how red he knew he was from being so close to him, but it felt warm, and safe, as they traveled through the crowd.

“S-sorry,” Patrick muttered, averting his eyes, as they pushed past a girl who looked like she already had a few too many. “Its-uh-really crowded…”

“It cool, it’s cool dude,” Pete was quick to reply back. His arm wrapping tighter on instinct as they bumped into some heavy set, tough looking guys, before moving around them. Patrick smiled a little at the touch, and was just thinking maybe he could get use to this, not to mention, Pete must be wearing some kind of cologne or something; ‘He smelled really good-wait, wait….what…’ Patrick thinks, but his thoughts are interrupted as they finally make their way to the front.

“You okay?” asked Pete to the young barista, hesitantly dropping his hand from his back, shoving them into his pockets with a sheepish look on his face.

“Yeah, I’m-I’m good. Um, thanks, for, like, not losing me in there,” he laughed shyly, motioning to the crowd behind him.

“I’m pretty sure your friends at the coffee shop would have killed me if I didn’t make sure you returned to work in one piece.”

Patrick laughed at that as he adjusted his fedora. “Death by expresso machine is a painful thing…Thought, you’re a pretty regular customer, so I’ll figure they _might_ cut you some slack…maybe death by expresso-withdrawal.”

Pete let out a hearty laugh at that. “Now _that_ is torture, I don’t think I could service more than three says without my caffeine fix. I’ll make a note not to piss your friends.”

They make their way to the hostess at the podium, waiting in line with others who are trying to get a table, and from what Patrick can overhear, the wait for a table two to three hours, which is freaking ridiculous if you ask him. He’s thinking about suggesting to Pete they eat somewhere else if they can’t snag a table. As they walk up to the podium, the hostess looks up from her paper and iPad, with what Patrick could only guess was an interactive map of all the tables and seats available, and her eyes light up at the sight of Pete.

“Mr. Wentz! We were wondering when you were going to show up,” she greeted with a bright lipstick red smile.

“Hey Lottie, busy night?” he casually greeted back.

“When isn’t it?” she laughed, before looking back at her iPad. “Usual or-” she started before drifting off, her eyes moving to Patrick with a curious, but non-malicious raised eyebrow and a smile. It was playful, Patrick could tell, but that didn’t stop him from shying away.

“For two, Lottie, if you can,” Pete asked sweetly, flashing a shy smile and scratching the nape of his neck at the implication.

“We always can, my dad would fire me if I didn’t,” she giggled as she tapped something on her iPad, and fished out two menus from behind her. “If you gentlemen could follow me please,” she smiled.

 _‘What the actual fuck,’_ thought Patrick in amazement. There should have been _no possible way_ for them to get a table, but there they were following the hostess into the dining area, which was cozy, not as loud as the front, but there was still chatter going on, following a careful path to some booths in the back, one that just so happened to be empty.

The hostess set both menus on either side of the table or motioned to the men behind her. “You server will be right with you! You boys enjoy!” She smiled, before making her way back to the front.

“See, told you it was worth a shot,” Pete grinned over at Patrick who just stared at him wide eyed, one eyebrow rise.

“How-“

“I uh, like pizza…like a lot..,” Pete grinned sheepishly with a shrug. “When we moved offices, this was the first pizza place I found and I have a friend whose vegan, and they have a kickass vegan menu, and so it kinda like, stuck.”

“So, you stick with what you like,” added the blue-green eyed college student, recalling their conversation earlier that day when he was making Pete’s drink order. Pete looked up for a moment and seemed thoughtful, before comically shrugging his shoulders and nodding with chuckle. Patrick laughed at his expression, before adjusting the sleeves of his jacket. Part of him wishes he had worn his navy cardigan today so that he could at the very least fiddle with his sleeves when his fingers itched to do something whenever he was nervous.

Patrick glances up to look at Pete, only to be met with warm whiskey colored eyes, and quickly, looks down at the menu, a flush forming on his cheeks, the corner of his lip in between his teeth, and a fluttering in his chest. He takes back what he thought about before, _now_ he feels like a love-struck teenager with a stupid crush. He clears his throat to draw away some attention before speaking, glancing over the laminated menu before. “So…uh..what’s good here?”

Pete feels like a major creep, but he can’t help but stare. The lighting in his place, makes him look amazing, but he’s also had the pleasure of seeing the barista in full unfiltered light ,and that itself is a breath-taking sight, and yeah that still makes him feel like a creeper, even more considering he thought about that the first time he stepped into the coffee shop and watched as he made drinks with elegance and finesse he didn’t know making expresso laced drinks could have. He’s gorgeous, Pete wasn’t about to deny it, and may have become something of a muse when it came to his ‘mushed-up-words-that-are-supposed-to-be-lyrics-but-really-aren’t’. But then he bites his lip, a nervous habit, Pete thinks, and it takes everything he has in him no to reach over, pull the kid over by the back of the neck and kiss him stupid-‘ _NO! DOWN PETE! KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS FOR ONCE IN YOUR GODFORSAKEN LIFE!_ ’ yells a voice in his head that sounds mysteriously like Joe…or Andy…ugh okay, whatever, but that’s beside the point. Patrick is fucking sight to behold and he doesn’t want to screw this up.

He’s brought back out of his mind by Patrick’s question, picking up his own menu, even though he already knows what he wants. “You’ve never eaten here before?” he asks, a bit surprised.

Patrick shook his head, “Not here at the actual place, but maybe once somewhere else. I might have been a little too drunk to remember what kind of cold pizza they served at that Delta Zeta Party or whether or not it was cardboard with ketchup. I vaguely remember one of the girls saying he called ahead for a few boxes of pizza from Formacio’s,” he laughed.

“I didn’t know you were a Greek, Patrick,” Pete teased, setting the menu down and leaning one elbow on the counter to prop up his chin, interested.

“I’m not, Brendon is. He's a TKE or Tau Kappa Epsilon, has been since Freshman Year,” Patrick explained with a smile. “They’ve tried Rushing me in, or, ugh, recruiting me, but I refused the bid, but I know a lot of the guys and Brendon, we hang out a lot. I’m not really a Frat type of guy, though the TKE guys are pretty cool. They’ve saved my butt a few times…”his voice dips low, trailing off, with a little shrug.

Pete notices the change in demeanor, but before he could ask, the server comes to the table. She’s another girl, hair in a messy bun and bright neon nail polish with artistically smudged eyeliner and a smile. “Hey there, sorry about the wait. Welcome to Formacio’s, I’m Cass and I’ll be your server for tonight. Can I get you boys started with anything drinks? Beer, cokes, water…”

“Beer,” nods Pete to the girl, who smiles in return.

“Same, beer please,” says Patrick.

“No problem. Mind if I see your ID, hon?” she asks Patrick, who playfully rolls his eyes, he digs out his wallet and shows her his ID. “Sorry about that, hon. In a college town, you can never be too careful,” she winks over at him.

“Yeah I know, I get it a lot, either way,” he chuckles.

“I bet,” she laughs along with him. “I’ll get you boys your beers out in a bit.” And with that she leaves them alone, and when she’s out of site, Pete and Patrick share a look, and laugh.

“Jeez, I can’t believe I got carded.”

“It’s adorable!”

“No it’s not, it’s embarrassing! I'm 23!”

“It’s adorable!”

Still laughing, Patrick scoffs. “Whatever, anyways, what do you recommend here?”

Pete eyes the menu before setting it down and smiling at Patrick. “Anything and everything. Pizza is amazing, Pasta is amazing, and the wings are amazing. It’s all amazing.”

Patrick’s cheeks are starting to hurt with how much he’s smiling, and he’s not about to complain. “Pizza still sounds good. Like I said, I had pretty drunk last time I think I had their pizza, I might need a refresher.”

"Pepperoni and veggie?”

“Sounds great.”

Their server comes back to their booth with their beers and takes their order. Pete also orders some cheese sticks to start off with, and when she vanishes once again, Pete and Patrick are left to their own devices. They talk about school, Pete asking the barista about his classes, his professors, his major. Patrick rants for a moment, talking about his shitty professor who really doesn’t teach class, and the one professor he does like taking, who was offering them extra credit at the session the very next morning. Pete nods along and recalls his own experiences with his professors. Patrick learns Pete once attended DuPaul, was majoring in Political Science and was on a Soccer Scholarship.

“I dropped out one semester short of graduation,” Pete says as he takes a drink of his beer, nearly half empty.

“What?! Why did you do that?” Patrick asked, blue-hazel eyes wide, and Pete only shrugged as he popped a piece of cheesy bread into his mouth.

“Lost my passion, but then followed the one I always had. Music.” He explained. “So I up'd and quit, after having a long heart-to-heart with Dr. Mounce, you know the one that was real cool, the mentor?” Patrick nods, having followed along. “He kinda always knew my heart wasn’t set on law, he could tell, even though I was pulling grades honor students would kill for. He told me I wouldn’t be happy unless I did something for me, rather than my parents. So I quit, got into music.” Pete purposely leaves out the fact that he lost his soccer scholarship due to an injury his senior year…He guess that was the start of his own downward spiral, but he rather not bring that up now.

Patrick nods slowly, understanding. He was lucky in a sense, his mom nor his grandparents never forced to do anything he didn’t want, and supported his choice to go into music theory and composition rather than accounting as they had suggested. He knew he wouldn’t be happy if he had stuck with numbers rather than chords. “How did you get into DCD2?” he asked, sipping his beer.

Pete nearly froze at the question, debating whether to tell him the truth or not. He had his reasons, he was guarded like that, especially after previous dates would fake genuine feelings and attractions just to get into a label’s CEO’s pants and wallet. And although Patrick didn’t seem like the type, _‘He’s too good of a person to even think of something that that.” “You never know…remember Jeanne was the same way, and look where that lead you…parking lot of Best Buy, remember?”_ said the voices in his head. He had thrown himself into work for a reason…he found it hard to trust anyone, and yet here he was…

“I know two of the dudes who started the company,” he says, and it’s not technically a _lie_ per say, he just doesn’t mention that he’s the third founder of DCD2. “I’m not really all that important, I just help out the artist every once in a while, in the sound booth with pointers,” he chuckles a bit. “I’m more of a pity case.”

“I highly doubt that,” smiles Patrick. “That sounds like a dream job to me,” he pipes in with a smile. “Or to at least record a track in one,” but he waves is hand, as if it’s never going to happened. It’s a far fetch dream for Patrick, it always has been, but he’s always been a behind the scenes kind of guy, despite what people tell him about it sets during Open Mic at the coffee shop. Hayley jokes that whenever Open Mic is announced, and Patrick’s on the list to perform, they always get a bigger crowd than usual, filled with his “Adoring fans,” she would smile, Gerard nodding in the back. He would always dismiss them, but he really just loved writing music. “I’ll just stick to writing music,” Patrick says, looking back at Pete as he takes another swing of his beer.

“You never know, maybe one day, someone might give you the chance,” Pete teased. He’s heard from the others, well, more like overheard, that Patrick is amazing during Open Mic, and makes a mental note to find out when the next one is so he can sneak in and watch. He’s always on the lookout for new voices, the CEO part of him says.

“I highly doubt _that_ ,” he scoffs. They continue on, talking about their lives, both dully noting that the other was currently single, and the topic turned to embarrassing dates, to which Patrick claimed he once took a girl out and accidentally dropped marinara sauce or spaghetti sauce right in the crotch of her white pants, which made Pete laugh hysterically to the point of tears. Pete in turn, told a wild story about how he went to a house party with this girl, got shit faced drunk, threw up on her, and then proceeded to make out with her older brother, who apparently was engaged, and when he woke up, the next morning, was covering in rainbow sharpie dicks and glitter make-up. “I’m telling you man, glitter is the herpes of make-up. It gets everywhere and you can’t get rid of it,” he says in between his and Patrick’s giggles. “That was so not my finest moment, and the last time I threw back EverClear.”

“That alone is enough to fuck you up,” laughs Patrick, already on his second beer. “I still can’t grasp that…her _brother_?!?”

“Parties at DuPaul were _wild_ , man. Just freakin’ _wild.”_

When the pizza finally comes, and Pete’s about three beers in and Patrick’s just about to finish his second, it’s quite literally heaven in silver pan. At the first bite, Patrick makes a sounds that literally sounds like absolute sex to Pete’s ear, and he’s just a little buzzed enough to smirk at the sound and think about how nice it would be to hear the barista make sounds like that in bed. _“First date Pete, first date with his kid...Keep it in your goddamn pants...”_

“Okay, this is _so_ much better slightly sober, rather than shit-face drunk,” Patrick says with a mouth full of pizza. “Now I fully understand the hype.”

“I’m telling you man, you just haven’t _lived_ until you try this place. It ruins all other pizza for you anywhere else you go,” Pete grins, taking a bite out of his own slice.

They talk music over pizza, and Pete is quick to test out Patrick’s taste in music, and falls even more for the kid when he brings up S _aves the Day_  and Morrissey. They get into another animated conversation about Bowie and Costello, which Pete finds the board in the coffee shop was damn right when it said that this pale, blue-hazel eyed boy with strawberry blonde hair, a killer smile and sinful looking lips (Pete tries not to stare too much when said lips wrap around the beer bottle, keyword: _tries_ )., does in fact have very _strong_ opinion about said artists.

Everything, to Pete’s surprise is going amazing well, he laughs more than he has in a while, and work hasn’t once crossed his mind. He’s a just shy of a perfect buzz, but part of him doesn’t want to reach it, not when he can get drunk off of just being with beautiful strawberry blonde in front of him. Without a second thought, he slides his hand across the table, fingers grazing over the younger man’s fingers, delicate, smoothing, and he’s starting to think that maybe all he needed was a little help from some liquid courage.

Patrick looks downs at their hands, his cheeks feeling flushed, either from the amount of alcohol he’s had (he’s not really much of a drinker to begin with, and Brendon has even called him out on being a fucking lightweight) or just from the touch of Pete’s fingers against his. He knows he’s riding a buzz right now, and he’s opening up more than he usually does to anyone, but for some reason, this guy, a _customer_ who had just asked him out today, whom he has had a crush on, is making him feel… _safe_. It’s an odd feeling, it really is, and Patrick has never felt like this in any of his previous relationships. So maybe…just maybe…

He moves to interlace their fingers over the wood surface of the table, eyes meeting, and smiling, and it’s then that both of them realize that the room feels quieter, and it’s ironic and cliché to think that the world feels like it has stop, but in a way…it does.

Pete’s about to say something, when Patrick’s phone buzzes. Both of them look at the phone on the table, which had been oddly quiet throughout the night. Patrick smiles sheepishly and reaches out to unlock his phone, his other hand still engaged with Pete’s fingers, not wanting to let go. Glancing down at the screen, Patrick pales for a moment, eyes wide and looking slightly horrified, “I’m going to physically harm Brendon,” he says lowly, but then gives into laughter before showing his phone to Pete, whose raised an eyebrow at the little comment.

On the screen is a text followed by a picture. The text, as the top of screen showed, was from Brendon, and it read ‘ _How’s it going? His he a serial killer? Do I need to come get you? Are you going to do the frickiety-frack? Do you need me to bring you condoms, because remember Trick, being safe is SEX-AY~!! No seriously, do you need condoms, cuz I’m at Walgreens right now and I can totally buy you some condoms for when you do the dirty~”_

The picture that followed was, sure enough, a selfie of Brendon in front of a shelf full of condoms with a caption that said: “ _Wat u need? Let this home boi know!!_ ”

Pete burst out laughing hysterically, loud and uncaring, and Patrick follows because he’s too damn buzzed to give a shit but when he sees Brendon in the afternoon, he’s gonna kick him in the nuts…or makes sure he can’t use his dick properly for a few days, maybe even a week.

“Dude….oh my god…Dude!! That is…I can’t believe him!” he says between laughs, his stomach sore and he swears he might be crying a bit, because there is no way that shit actually happens in real life.

“And he _will_ do it,” Patrick giggles back, “He did once for Gerard and Frank, Gerard’s boyfriend and who is also a freakin’ TKE, and Frank replied yes, as a joke! And, Jesus, Brendon actually ran to the store, came back to the TKE house and went up to Frank’s room, and left him a box of condoms with a note that said ‘That’s what TKE brothers are for!’ It was fucking hilarious!”

He doesn’t respond to it, just locks his phone as looks back at Pete, his smile never once faltering. Patrick glances back at his phone and realizes that it was nearly 11 pm, and, fuck, he had a goddamn study session in the morning at ass o’clock. Pete notices the time too and nods, pulling his hand away from Patrick’s (he’s not going to lie and say he didn’t notice the small frown of disappointment on those tempting lips) , calling Cass, their server over for the check. Patrick is about to dig out his wallet when Pete picks up the check.

“Don’t worry I got it,” he says with a smile.

“At least let me pay half, Pete.”

“Nope! I got it,” he grins, one that Patrick’s not going to admit _does_ things to him, and watches as Cass takes the check and Pete’s credit card, and leaves.

“Fine, but next time, let me at least pay for half of it,” Patrick pouts, taking one last swing of his beer.

Whiskey colored eyes widen at the statement. A next time? Does he….“Is there going to be a next time?” he asks, looking over at Patrick, his voice hopeful.

Patrick stills for a minute, fingers playing across the table as he they wait for their server to return. He thinks about it for a moment, while looking over at the man across from him, dark hair and tan skin, tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of his jacket, and on the rare occasion, he comes in without a stupid hoodie, but in a short sleeves, or the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up. The man is beautiful, and he can’t help but think what a guy like Pete could want with someone like him, a college kid working at a coffee shop. He’s not beautiful, he’s far from it…

“Only…only if-if you want…” he says sheepishly, averting his gaze to the counter top, fingers dancing along the polished wood. Damnit, he doesn’t know, why he’s so shy, now.

“I do,” Pete says softly, reaching over to gently take one of Patrick’s hands in his, thumb running over his knuckles, before continuing, “What about you?” And Pete’s scared he might scare Patrick away, but he wants there to be a ‘next time’, especially after tonight.

Patrick nods, shyly, squeezing Pete’s hand, it feels warm in his, their skin colors clashing in a beautiful way, and he doesn’t want to let go, and right now, Patrick doesn’t know if its his own mind making his words into poetry or the buzz he’s currently riding. That doesn’t matter, just like he stop caring about the flush that must be on his cheeks but the time the server comes back with Pete’s card.

Pete thanks her, signs his copy of her receipt after leaving her a hefty tip, and motions for Patrick and him to leave.  They managed to make their way back to the front, only to see that the crowd shrunk to half its size, but its still impressive, and now Patrick could understand why. It’s easier to make their way out and back into the street, which is still buzzing with people, mainly college students celebrating the weekend.

“I live in University Village,” says Patrick as they walk down the street, their shoulders touching as they walked along the sidewalk. “It’s not that far from here,” he says.

“I live close by too, it’s convenient for work. No need for a car most days,” Pete shrugs. “It’s about four blocks from the coffee shop.”

“Yeah, I totally get that. Mine’s at least a bus ride to school and a 20 minute walk to work on a good day. I take the bus in case it rains or the snow is pretty bad.”

They walk towards Patrick’s apartment complex, Pete’s hand carefully, and tentatively seeking out Patrick’s as they make their way. Patrick turns a beautiful shade of pink as their fingers intertwined and they continue to talk about Pete’s record collection, until they reached the stairwell leading to Patrick’s apartment on the second floor.

“Well…this is me,” Patrick says softly, motioning up towards the stairwell. He looks down at his and Pete’s intertwined fingers, his thumb smoothing along the warm skin of his hand. “I had fun tonight.”

“Yeah, I did too,” says Pete lowly. “Maybe, um, next time, or whenever, I can show you that limited edition Morrissey vinyl…if you want,” he adds quickly. He was never good at this part, the ‘goodnight’ or the ‘bye’, whatever the case maybe. Pete just doesn’t want to let go of his beautiful creature before him.

“Sounds good,” smiles Patrick, looking away, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I guess….I’ll see you around at the coffee shop?”

Pete nods and lets his fingers slip from Patrick, and fuck, he’s staring. He’s staring at strawberry blonde hair and blue green eyes, and beautiful pink lips that he just wants to taste, just once…

And before he knows it, his lips are against Patrick’s, and he feels the other boy tense. Pete’s mind is racing. He’s fucked it up. He couldn’t keep himself in control for once in his life, and he fucked up like he always does. Before he pulls away, thinking of ways to apologize, he feels Patrick’s lips move against his, soft hands moving up to rest one on the side of his neck and the other on his chest. It feels like he’s melting against his body, and he wants to hold on, so he does. He’s careful when he slips one hand to cradle the back of his head and another to wrap around his waist, tasting beer-bitter kisses from those sinful lips.

Pete could hear the soft noises Patrick is make in the back of his throat, as his tongue shyly sweeps against that plump bottom lip, asking for entrance. And Patrick gives in, parting his lips just the slightest, allowing Pete’s tongue to slip past, a moan escaping him he feels Pete’s tongue against his.

It’s hot, sweet, a little dirty, intimate, and of so fucking _perfect._   It ends far too soon when they break for air, Pete and Patrick panting softly, foreheads resting against each other, blue green looking into warm whiskey, pupils blown wide and a smile slowly making its way onto their faces.

“Holy smokes,” Patrick breathes against Pete’s lips, stunned, and more than a bit aroused from that fucking kiss.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you,” Pete whispers back, letting his nose skim against Patrick’s before moving to kiss his cheek, sweetly.

All Patrick could do was smirk, “I couldn’t tell.” And that causes Pete to laugh. They stay like that, next to the stair way that leads to Patrick’s apartment for another minutes, bodies close, foreheads touching, and the feeling of each other’s heartbeats racing in their ears.

They kiss one last time, not as heated as the first, but still filled with promise and just a sweet, and it nearly brings tears to Patrick’s eyes when he pulls away. “Goodnight,” he whispers against Pete’s lips.

“ ‘Night,” Pete whispers back, as Patrick pulls away, fingertips drifting from his body as he backs way, making his way up stairs. Pete’s rooted in his spot, as he watches Patrick go, shooting him a smile when he looks over his shoulder and meets Pete’s eyes once more, a smile on those beautifully pink kissed lips.

“Text me?” And Pete nods, waiting until Patrick is totally out of view to leave, a shit-eating grin on his face as he makes it way back to his own place.

Patrick makes his way inside his apartment, the second door on the right and as soon as he’s in, he quickly locks the door and falls against it, giggling like a mad man with a permanent flush on his face, as he touches his fingers to his lips, right where Pete has kissed him. _Holy. Fuck._  He kissed, actually kissed him.He feels like he wants to cry with joy, but figures that might just be the beer talking, but instead thoughts off his jacket and fedora, and picks up his guitar, sitting on his couch as be begins to strum out chords and melodies like never before. As he strums, he thinks of Pete’s laugh, his eyes, his hands, his lips against his, and how amazing is was to be kissed like that, how he just _melted_ into Pete…And Patrick knows, whether it was a good thing or not, he was falling, as he hums wordlessly to the soothing melody that plays from his guitar.

Pete feels like he’s fucking floating, and there are words rushing in his head, and he needs to get back to his notebooks and write until his heart’s content, where he can talk about a boy with blonde eyelashes, and his world is spinning, and spinning, and it feels incredible, and everything feels like fireworks, and he just can’t stop.  His phone buzzes in his pocket on his way back to his apartment and it’s Joe. _‘How’s the date going Panda-ella?’_ He’s quick to pen his reply and when he finally gets home, he sends it, grabbing his nearest notebook and pen and madly scribbling down words and phrases, verses and rhymes, and all he could think about was a breathing taking smile, and soft, amazing lips, and finally, he presses send, before writing until the sun shone through the wide windows of his spacious apartment, thinking of pale skin and expressive blue-green eyes.

_‘It was magical...’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out longer than I thought, and I hope you guys enjoyed it! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are lovely and if you have any suggestions feel free to leave them here or stop by my [Tumblr](http://shatteredmirrors-and-lace23.tumblr.com/) and drop a ask there. 
> 
> Part 4 will be coming out soon, so be on the look out!
> 
> Thank you for reading! =)


End file.
